Duet
by jenolas
Summary: The music of an unknown harpist calls to Erestor.


Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

Duet (1/1)

As he did every evening before he retired, Erestor strolled through his favourite garden, listening to the sounds of the insects, bidding the trees and plants a good night as he basked in the glow of the starlight he loved so well. That the meticulous and highly organized Advisor would prefer the wild array of flowers that were allowed to grow as they willed amongst the long grass to the orderly beds and carefully colour matched blooms of the other gardens that boasted only a short, soft green carpet to walk on would likely come as a surprise to those who did not know him well.

This was the time of day when he felt free to set aside his responsibilities along with his formal attire, for Erestor had left his black robes in his chamber, untied his braids and allowed his raven tresses to fall freely over the loose silk shirt he wore over his leggings. His feet were bare and he cared not that the evening dew was making them damp and dirty as he crushed fallen leaves beneath them as he walked, humming a soft serenade to the stars.

He loved the peace and serenity he found in the darkness, the intoxicating scent of the night blooming flowers that was carried on the crisp, clean air and the freedom to behave as he wished. There was no-one to witness when he chose to run through the grasses like a wild creature, his arms outstretched, his hair flowing untamed in his wake, an almost feral grin of delight lighting his face.

There was no one to be shocked or aroused when he stripped naked beside the small, dark pool before slowly immersing his body into the cold, clear water to cleanse the day's troubles away. No one to see his eyes well with tears as his aloneness suddenly washed over him, no one to hold him during the night, whispering words of love as they shared bodily pleasure.

Until today there had been no one he wanted as a lover, but the arrival of the golden haired Lord Glorfindel had changed that and he had fallen hard and fast, as he had often thought he might. One look had been enough had set his body aflame with desire and place an unbreakable chain of love around his heart. Erestor entertained no hope of his love being returned, for Glorfindel had spared him but a brief glance and a few formal words of greeting before following Elrond to his study. The affectionate hand on his lord's shoulder and the merry laughter they shared over some softly spoken secret had only confirmed this, at least in Erestor's mind.

As much as he wished it were not so, etiquette demanded he attend the evening meal, but as soon as good manners allowed, he had requested to be excused from the gathering in the Hall of Fire and escaped to his garden refuge, but to his dismay he found there was no escaping the ache in his heart or his need for his newly discovered love.

With a sad sigh, he left the darkness of the water and dressed quickly, eager to return to his chamber where at least he could feel the presence of Glorfindel nearby for the golden warrior's chambers were across the hall way from his own. Knowing this would be both torture and delight, Erestor warned himself, but his heart did not seem to care as he became lost in thoughts of sparkling blue eyes and silky golden tresses. So lost was he in imagining the feel of soft lips on his, of hands slowly exploring every part of his body, of the ecstasy of mutual pleasuring that he did not notice the last strains of sweet yet melancholic music that seemed to whisper to him alone, until it had almost faded softly into the night. He recognised the instrument as a harp, and moved towards the place where he thought the sound had come from, expecting to find Lindir or one of the other minstrels. Instead he found no one and after a brief search, left with a puzzled frown for there was no sign that anyone had been there at all.

The next evening found Erestor again in his garden, seeking to soothe his increasingly aching longing with the beauty of the night and the coldness of the water, but he found no solace until he heard the same sweet melody drifting on the warm evening breeze. The music spoke to his soul in a way no other song had before, engulfing him in an intense but unnamed feeling that almost hid the brief flicker of joy that caused his heart to race.

Again he tried to follow the music to its source, but the melody he was hearing did not sound quite as he imagined it should and in his distraction he found that the elusive musician had again disappeared without a trace.

Erestor returned to his chamber, but was unable to sleep with the echo of the strangely beautiful song haunting his thoughts and after a time he realised he knew a way to discover what was amiss. Taking a lighted candle and a set of very old keys, he made his way through the deserted passageways to the part of the house where the storage rooms were located, and unlocked the door to the one where many of his own personal effects were kept. He quickly located the particular chest he sought, and reached inside to remove the long silver case that was home to his Adar's flute. He had been taught to play it as a child, but his interest in music had waned when his parents sailed to Valinor and he had devoted his time and effort to his studies instead.

He carefully removed the instrument and tried to play a few notes, surprising himself at how easily he recalled the proper technique. Not wishing to disturb anyone's rest with his practice at this early hour of the morning, he took the flute back to his chamber and set it on his bedside table. He would take it into the garden tonight and see if he could play the melody that was still lingering at the back of his mind.

The day passed slowly and Erestor's distraction did not go unnoticed by a concerned Elrond, but aside from apologising for his uncharacteristic mistakes, he did not further elaborate on what was bothering him for he had no wish to discuss his love for Glorfindel with his imagined rival.

Deciding that waiting until midnight was unwise given his current state of turmoil, Erestor allowed his impatience to lead him and his flute outside just after the evening meal had ended. He made his way quickly to the place the unknown harpist seemed to favour, settled down comfortably in the grass and began his own practice. After several hours of unsuccessful attempts to make the song sound complete, and having no idea what was missing, he angrily cast the instrument aside and growled in frustration.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," said a soft voice from somewhere behind him. Erestor had not heard anyone approach and turned sharply around, startled to see blue eyes filled with starlight smiling at him and a harp held in the slender hands of none other than Glorfindel.

"It is you," was all he managed to whisper as his heart began racing wildly. Without saying another word, the object of his desire sat beside him and handed him his flute. Glorfindel then began to play the song he had played each night, and a few moments later Erestor joined in, his fingers finding the right notes of their own accord as harp and flute combined in the sweetest of melodies.

Erestor closed his eyes and allowed the music to flow from his very soul, his part of the melody combining in perfect harmony with that of his companion's, filling his heart with love and hope of forever, and when he opened his eyes again he saw that Glorfindel felt it too.

"'Tis not a single melody but a duet written by our hearts my love," he said as he gently pulled the flute away from the lips he needed to claim as his own.


End file.
